What's Left Unsaid
by Ssjshadic
Summary: You're the ship's chronicler, the one who documents the crew's adventures. You've learned quite a bit about reading between the lines, and often, that's what's most important. Reader x Straw hats nakamaship.
1. Chapter 1

You grumble from your 'privileged seat' in one of Nami's fold-out lawn chairs.

" _'It's an important job'_ , they said. _'We're counting on you,_ ' they said."

You wave your arms over your head at the gorgeous blue sky and sunshine bearing down over the Thousand Sunny.

"We're at a goddamn _island resort_! What's the point of leaving behind a guard?"

You huff out a sigh and pout a little, only because none of your nakama can see it. You know they gave you the assignment to make you feel a bit better about the fact that you're the only one who's still recovering from Fishman Island. An adventure that, for everyone _else_ , had been an exercise in exhibiting how much more awesome they were. And you, the ship's chronicler? _You_ have a broken leg in a cast and a swollen foot from a recent surgery courtesy of Chopper.

"Na~mi," you whine to the navigator, who stayed behind with you while the others take advantage of what she's assured will be an unheard of opportunity to cut loose in the New World. "Can't I go ashore for just five minutes? What if I miss out on something exciting while I'm sitting here?"

"Then I'm sure Usopp will be more than happy to blow the details out of proportion for you," she answers patiently from her mikan grove. "And Robin will iron out the exaggerations later. Now shush and enjoy the peace while it lasts."

You groan and shift your leg, wishing you could roll onto your side. Granted, compared to the medical experts from your birthplace, Chopper's a freaking genius, and he promised that what would've been at least a few weeks recovery will be done within days, if not hours.

But your captain is _Straw Hat Luffy_ , for crying out loud! A few hours is ample time for him to get into trouble and resolve an entire adventure that you're not around to witness and document!

You glare at the parasol shielding your eyes from the sun. You have half a mind to make an impromptu crutch out of it and sneak onto the beach while Nami's occupied.

"Sit." She commands, walking up the steps to the bow as if she knows your intentions. You surrender the idea immediately- you might be crazy enough to risk Chopper's temper by disobeying orders, but not the cartographer.

You stretch your arm down to scratch because the damn cast itches like a _mother_ but Nami straddles your thigh.

"No scratching." She says evenly, her voice lacking the heat she uses for the special brand of idiot she has to herd around daily, because she knows you know better. Had she sat over you like this two years ago, she would have been wearing a catty smile, you'd be a conservative eight on a scale of fluster ranging from one to Sanji, and she'd be demanding something as compensation for some slight she probably made up.

Now, you just comply and eye her warily while she peels back the skin of a mikan. A second glance reveals she's brought quite a few.

"Taunting me now, too?" You ask. It's past lunchtime, and if not for the fact that you heard Sanji trilling about 'Nami-swan's specially prepared midday fruit platter' earlier, you would think it odd the cook hasn't come running back to fix something.

But you did. So you don't.

"That's not a very friendly tone," Nami says, popping a little fruit in her mouth. "I guess _someone_ doesn't want any."

 _There's_ her catty grin.

"Sorry," you say, trying not to clench your teeth. "Would you please be so kind as to share your precious mikan with me?"

She tilts her head, the light catching her fiery hair that she's carefully grown out- it distracts you while she gently pushes a piece of fruit into your open mouth.

"I suppose I can't let you starve." She says with a dramatically flippant sigh. She rolls over and lays back, shoulders against your chest. She takes another bite and feeds you a second morsel without even looking up.

The intimate physical contact, back flush against your front, would have been at least a day's worth of awkwardness and a stream of teasing (threats against your life in Sanji's case) before. But it's _not_ 'before' now, and that's as clear as it's ever been. Her figure still fits inside a little over half of yours, but while she's never been quite fragile, her arms carry noticeable definition now, and under her softness you can tell there's a six pack to rival any of the boys.

She wriggles a little over your hip, probably to get more comfortable.

" _That_ ," she says in reference to an involuntary shift _you_ make. "Was your leg, right?"

Or maybe it's a new form of torture.

"Y-yes." You hiss out in a stammer, face hot in the shade, though you can't find it in yourself to feel embarrassed.

"Are you planning to go somewhere?" She asks, almost conversational in the way it's familiar and light. She feeds you another bit of mikan, how many have you had now? You glance down at her hands, then at the wooden deck and count the discarded peels.

 _'Two, three- eh screw it.'_

You decide you can't be bothered, and try to focus on what Nami just asked you. Your head buzzes a little and you feel incredibly relaxed for some reason. When she pokes your face with another slice of orange fruit, you only register that it's one she's bitten into after you eat it.

"You saturated these in alcohol, didn't you?"

She must have brought some in from the refrigerator while you were moping.

"Maybe." She drawls, playing coy.

"Where'd you pick up this delightful idea?" You ask, licking your lips. You can't even taste the alcohol and you're not a lightweight, so it must be vodka, and you _hate_ vodka, sneaky bastard water-looking-alcohol that it is, but damn these mikan are delicious.

"Weatheria." She answers quietly and the levity of the banter suddenly ebbs away.

You sober a little at that answer.

"Oh."

She sighs, and the flow of treats stop. You still haven't really talked to your nakama about the two years you all spent separated. You know you'll have to, it's part of the story, your job as the chronicler on board, but aside from a note 'We came back stronger' in the crew's log book, your own draft of your written adventures remains untouched.

Objectively, it's ridiculous. You're more intimately involved with your crew mates, more aware of their habits (sometimes unfortunately so) than you ever were with any of your family, and none of you have secrets. Of course, that's mostly because you know what questions you shouldn't ask, what things are more important and weighty left unsaid.

You _should_ be able to just ask 'Where did you guys end up?' and make a party out of it, like the Straw Hats do with any event that isn't a fight for a friend. It shouldn't _be_ a taboo, not like the name of Luffy's brother or Marineford.

But the question comes attached with an excruciating memory. That you all lost each other. That stacking your willpower on top of your spirit over your dreams _wasn't enough_ to cut it. That you had to tear all that down and rebuild it on a foundation of individual strength, so that you could be _enough_ to never be separated again.

You shiver, remember that for two years you were so distraught at night that you didn't write _anything_. You coil an arm around Nami's waist and hold on. She wraps her fingers around your forearm without a grip.

"You know," she says sleepily. "I'll have to charge you my standard rate for feeding you."

You exhale a silent laugh. You breathe in her scent- mikan, clouds (somehow- fitting for the weather witch), a healthy dose of saltwater and of course, the expensive paper she uses for charts.

"What is your standard rate?" You ask, sinking into drowsiness. "Usually there's just a percentage attached to your services. Or my infractions."

She turns her cheek onto your chest and sighs.

"I'll let you know when I come up with one."

You had a lot of time to think about your nakama while you were apart, and you think you've figured out why she keeps the entirety of the crew in steep debt to her.

It's just her way of saying

 _'_ _Don't ever leave me.'_

"Well, I've got some bad news," you murmur. "I'm flat broke. So it looks like..." you yawn. "You're stuck with me for a long time."

She hums and dozes off.

You figure there's about a fifty-fifty chance that Sanji will be among the first to return to the Sunny. Whether or not Nami will still be napping in the same position is anyone's guess.

In short, taking a snooze right now is a dangerous gamble with your life. Even without stepping off the ship, you're on an adventure.

You think, just before falling asleep.

 _'I love this crew.'_


	2. Chapter 2

A light rapping on the door to your study interrupts your latest log entry. There's quite a bit left to note down- Whole Cake island was nothing if not a saga unto itself, and that ordeal's two islands past.

"Yeah?" You call out nonetheless.

"Ah, pardon the intrusion," Brook's smooth voice precedes muted daylight streaming in through the doorway. "I hope I am not interrupting."

The stuttering uncertainty in the skeleton's tone determines your answer more than the truth. You set aside your pen so you don't accidentally smudge- Nami chews you out often enough for how expensive paper is (yours isn't half as much as what she uses for maps, though you have wisely stopped pointing that out.)

"Nope," you say, leaning back in your desk chair. "What can I help you with?"

Brook stands in the doorway, his thin frame almost tall enough he needs to crouch. Not quite, of course, Franky was quick to make adjustments to accommodate Brook's height. The musician hums, too casually to be idle, and though he has no eyes (skull joke! Oh god, he's got you doing it now) you can tell he's glancing about the room.

"I was wondering," he says, tapping a finger on his cane. "If you might- that is, if your offer still stands?"

You blink, wondering what's he's referring to. He interprets that as hesitation, shuffles his feet backward like he's overstepped some boundary.

"It's all right," he says quickly, a little too hasty in his retreat. "I don't want anything you cannot give, of course."

Your brain goes _click_.

"OH!" You exclaim, because there's only one request Brook could make that would leave him looking so uncomfortable. "That's what you meant- no, no, yeah, sure!"

You jump out of your chair to catch him, heedless of the upturned furniture.

"Let me get the others out on the lawn," you say, easily fitting sideways between the door frame and his bony body. You pause, looking back at him and mulling over the idea. You bend over outside your study and pull your boots off. "I think the grass would be the best, don't you? Or maybe at the stern, the breeze will be back there."

"Um…" he stutters.

"Of course, you can obviously do what you want," you say, deaf to his voice in your excitement. "I should ask Nami what the weather's liable to be like. D'you"

"I was thinking," he says, clearly enunciating as to be heard. "That we might do this privately?"

You blink at him again. You frown just a little.

"Why?"

"I'm not exactly proud," he explains. "Making this request at all. Even with your consent, it's a somewhat gross violation."

You snort, not derisive of him, but out of bemusement at how his formal, gentlemanly personality conflicts with such a basic desire. All of your nakama, regardless of how they were prior to joining the crew, are practiced in the ways of communicating through physical contact, after all. Luffy's a touchy-feely, cuddle-hug-slap on your back kind of captain, Robin being the only exception for any kind of claps on her person. None of you deny that you missed it during your two years apart, so for Brook to feel ashamed of requesting a proper experience, well.

"That's dumb," you say bluntly, and you tug on his sleeve. "I told you I was fine with it whenever you asked. And if we _don't_ tell Chopper, he'll freak out when he finds us, then the whole ship will know anyway."

"I… suppose." Brook concedes, stepping in line behind you at your behest. You bump into Zoro on your way to the galley, only throwing an invitation to him over your shoulder. Your noisy entrance might have led Nami to mistake you for Luffy, except the captain is already inside, whining at Sanji's heels for something to snack on. Chopper's trying and failing to encourage the rubber man to take his meals in the infirmary, being that his latest brawl had involved extensive pummeling on both sides.

"Where's Jinbe?" You ask, raising your voice over Luffy's pleas, Sanji's mild rebukes and Nami going over the route with Franky. "We need Jinbe out on deck."

Luffy, being the man-child he is, picks up on your excitement and, after a moment's deliberation, decides whatever you have to say has the potential to be more interesting than food. (Quite an honor.)

"Why?" Nami asks, glancing quizzically at Brook, your grasp on the musician's arm, and your splitting grin. "What's going on?"

"Luffy," you say instead of answering her, because you think maybe Brook will explain things on his own if the room clears out a bit. "Can you find Jinbe? We're gonna do something cool."

"What? What are we doing?" Luffy asks, bouncing with energy he had _just_ claimed he lacked for want of meat.

"Find Jinbe and we'll tell you outside!"

He whoops, stretching an arm for the balustrade outside to launch himself.

"So," Sanji drawls immediately after he exits. "What _is_ happening, exactly?"

"I'm SU~PER curious!" Franky exclaims, cocking his hips in a pose.

You urge Brook forward.

You can't vouch for the incident's veracity for obvious reasons, but as Brook gradually relates the unconventional means he used to save your life on Whole Cake island (you were unconscious, and one of Big Mom's children made to take advantage of that,) Chopper has stars in his eyes and Sanji and Nami exchange a smile with you. Franky grins wildly and gives you a thumbs up with his big hand and another with his smaller one.

"I told him he could possess me anytime he wanted," you sum up once he's finished. "He just asked."

Brook, despite only having a skull as a face, somehow blanches and pales.

"Oh, um," he stutters, like the word 'possess' will offend everyone.

"I'll go see what the weather's set to be like," Nami says, instilled with the same energy that's possessed you. "I can't guarantee a forecast either way, but last I checked we have a window of about half an hour. Maybe longer."

"I GOTTA GO TELL LUFFY AND USOPP!" Chopper cries out, streaking out the door onto the lawn. Not a minute later, Luffy's boyish voice reaches the kitchen with an outburst of incredulity.

 _"REALLY?!"_

"Hey," Sanji says around a smoke, addressing Brook. "Tell me what you want to eat."

"Ah, that's not necessary."

"Hell it isn't," Sanji dismisses Brook's manners with a wave of his hand. "You haven't had a stomach for over five decades. I'm gonna make you whatever you want and you'll damn well eat it."

"OW!" Franky yells, lumbering toward the door. "I'll get you some of the best stuff from my Cola stash, Skull-bro! SUPER taste for your borrowed taste buds!"

Brook whips his neck back and forth, looking between the two of your nakama, one hand on his head.

"My goodness, my heart is palpitating! I'm not certain about all this attention."

You roll your eyes good-naturedly.

"You don't have a heart," you say, robbing him of his skull joke opportunity. "And you're a world-renowned rock star. Since when do you get stage fright?"

"Yohohoho!" He laughs, and you're glad he's finally at ease about the whole thing, comforted by everyone's support. "That's true, that's true!"

Outside, Robin watches you leap down while Brook takes the stairs with her knowing smile, and being that it's Robin you suspect she knew even before you shared the plan with everyone.

"Are you excited, Brook?" She asks. The skeletal musician hums ponderously, face turned toward the sun.

Luffy offers to take your place in the exchange, but Brook insists that it would be enormously inappropriate, bordering on mutinous, to act in the captain's body for any length of time. Usopp belatedly offers too, after he's asked you what it was like the first time.

( _"How the hell would I know? It's like being asleep, I guess."_ )

Brook politely declines since you offered first.

Everyone, the kids inclusive, know better than to suggest either of the ladies do it. Nami's already made it clear that, regardless of who's in control of your body, any request for panties will be met with the same swift rejection as always. Chopper's more fascinated by the idea of observing the phenomenon, Brook's afraid of accidentally breaking something in Franky's mechanical body, Jinbe's too massive for the change to be comfortable, and Sanji's cooking is essential to the experience.

You wonder for a moment if Zoro, being a fellow swordsman, would be the ideal choice, but,

"I wanna see if your sword fighting changes when you have muscle to back up your technique."

You doubt Brook's experience will compensate for your lack of coordination with a blade, but you keep that to yourself.

Finally, everything's ready. You take a seat next to Robin by the mast so you don't fall over during the transfer. Jinbe's on standby in case Brook wants to try swimming, though there's no way of knowing whether or not it will work just because he's in a different body. Franky has a bottle opener in one hand and the most carbonated bottle of Cola you've ever seen in the other, Luffy and Usopp are angling forward on crossed legs. Nami double checks the sky and confirms there are no imminent typhoons, and Chopper's watching wide-eyed from Zoro's lap. Sanji leans on the banister outside the galley, waiting till Brook is ready for any snack he names.

"I wonder if pooping would be weird in someone else's body?" Luffy wonders aloud.

You physically flinch at the _layers_ of weirdness you could unpack from that question.

"UH." You respond intelligently.

Nami and Usopp do you the favor of bopping your captain for his lack of filter.

"Would you like me to take notes for you to peruse afterward?" Robin asks you thoughtfully.

"Ah," Brook utters, calling your attention to him. "Let me know when I may begin."

You think it over, looking at Brook, who patiently- so patiently- waits for you. You're certain that later, after you wake up or whatever, you'll be regaled by Luffy and Usopp about how you behaved, possibly some of your nakama will call you Brook by mistake and then panic when they see the unmoving skeleton before they remember. You might find out that Brook's dexterity on his old violin is affected by the sudden return to a flesh body, and you might miss out on a performance that's downright spiritual in it's beauty. And you'll note that all down in your log book, keep it for the crew as is your role, but…

"No thanks," you answer Robin. You don't need to publish this moment. "This is something that's just ours, you know?"

She smiles at that.

"Okay, Brook," you say, and you close your eyes. "Whenever you're ready."

There's a moment between closing your eyes and unconsciousness, a period of transit that you know Brook intentionally leaves in case you want to back out.

He's been a skeleton for over fifty years, only privy to the wind by the way it tugs his afro, experiencing hot and cold and pain as dictated by the phantom instincts of his body imprinted on his soul by a pirate's life.

He's endured that trial on the basis of a promise. He deserves the real thing.

You don't blink.


	3. Chapter 3

"Do I _want_ to know," Nami says, pauses, and sighs. "Who 'Sperm Donor' is?"

She's leaning over your shoulder, reading through the paltry few lines you've taken down in the log book since you all escaped Whole Cake island. Under any other circumstance, getting the cartographer to utter the phrase 'Sperm Donor' aloud would be an achievement warranting a little victory song and dance, and _worth_ the inevitable dope slap afterward.

At the moment, you're too pissed off.

"I wish I _didn't_ know him," you mutter, spitting out the name that follows with more venom than you thought you could muster. "Judge."

You're well-practiced in the art of bestowing derogatory names unto former enemies in the crew's log book. Spandam, for instance, will forever remain 'Panda'. Partially because of how happy it makes Franky, partly because it works since he's constantly wearing leather over half his face, and because your initial moniker 'Toothless' (both in the sense the former CP9 head had no balls _and_ that you very much wanted to leave him with a mouth comprised of gums) doesn't have the same ring to it.

In the case of the Vinsmoke patriarch, you had quite a few personal ( _cough_ ) 'titles' in mind after you first saw the guy, none of which bear repeating in polite company. Or _any_ company. Sperm Donor is actually the kindest among them since, at the very least, it denotes his _sole_ marginally redeeming feature.

That, of course, being Sanji's existence.

And Sperm Donor is the best Judge will ever get from you, regardless of the fact that he and his children helped you escape. You don't care if he lives out the rest of his days as a born-again _saint_ , he sure as _shit_ doesn't deserve the honor of the title 'Sanji's Father'.

"Do you think, maybe," Nami says after a minute. "That using the word 'prick' twenty times on one page might be a tad excessive?"

You grumble something hot under your breath, pressing your pen a bit too hard and blotting the page.

"Not in this case," you say, nonetheless tearing the sheet out of the log book and thrusting it into the trash. "But for the sake of my integrity, you've got a point."

"Okay," Nami says in a definitive, not unkind manner, lightly placing her hand on your shoulder. "Why don't you take a break?"

"Did you need something?" You snap at her, turning in your chair to glare. She retracts her hand, but doesn't back away. You're not being fair to her, you know that, the same as you know she's only in your study because you haven't left for more than a day.

You tell yourself it's because the Vinsmokes royally piss you off like no other, or that you'll fall behind in your notations of the crew's adventures if you waste time with things like sleeping, or blinking, or going to the bathroom.

"Have you spoken with Sanji-kun?"

But none of that's true.

You maintain a glower that Nami doesn't return for about thirty seconds before you huff and drop your head to your knees. Her tone isn't accusatory- it holds only the vague promise of mild disappointment at worst. And you don't blame her for that.

"No."

You haven't spoken to him yet. When you were all pushed toward the infirmary after you'd escaped, you avoided any interaction with the cook and couldn't leave the room fast enough.

Because you feel like a _fucking asshole_.

For weeks after you found out the chef hailed from North Blue, you pestered him on the subject of his experience from one of the world's four Blue oceans. Nothing you hadn't subjected the East Bluers to, (with varying degrees of success.) You already knew Chopper's sad story, and Robin had only just joined- you weren't (aren't) suicidal enough to seriously interrogate an assassination specialist about her past.

For a while, he played along, deflecting some questions with discussions about the various cuisine that distinguished North Blue from the other Blues. And as the cook, those were vital details, so you'd challenge him with meals you read about in books. He rose to the occasion every time.

Save for one.

 _"What was the first meal you ever cooked when you were young?"_

You clarified that you meant when he was in North Blue, not as an apprentice at Baratie.

He didn't answer. Instead, he sat there in the galley, chuffing smoke with a vacant expression.

 _"Hey, did I ever tell you about the time Patty set his ass on fire?"_

The distraction technique worked. Sanji was clever, after all.

 _"How the hell does a cook set fire to his own ass?"_

 _"That's what I said when I walked into the kitchen!"_

But for some reason, you persisted in trying to coax an answer out of him. Maybe you thought it would fill in the picture of his career as a chef, you can't remember why anymore.

You _do_ remember the line you crossed.

 _"Fine. I refuse to eat until you make me the first dish you ever cooked."_

For Sanji, such was blackmail, the hostage your own stomach and the ransom your sated hunger. Whether or not you'd have followed through doesn't matter, the threat never should have been issued. The cook's knife, chopping up vegetables, stabbed into the cutting board, heart-stopping millimeters from his fingers.

He refused in a low, shaking growl.

And you, with your stupid, insatiable curiosity, asked why.

 _"Because it'll taste like_ SHIT _all right?!"_

With a groan, you press the heels of your palms against your eyes. Now you know why Sanji, brave, passionate, _kind_ Sanji, had paled and hunched and bared his teeth around his cigarette like an animal cornered by some unspeakable _danger_. Why he didn't speak to you outside of battle for two days afterward.

He desperately wanted to leave his home- scratch that, his _birthplace_ \- in his past, a hopefully dim and distant memory.

"Are you going to forgive him soon?" Nami asks.

Your brow wrinkles and you just _look_ at her.

"What?" Is all you can muster, because you forgave the cook ages ago. Hell, apart from attacking Luffy the way nakama never should, there's nothing you can find to forgive.

"Oh," she says, feigning surprise. "You already told him?"

You open your mouth to say of course you did, replaying the past sixty hours in your tired brain to back yourself up. You must have, it wouldn't make any sense if you... hadn't... told him that.

" _Fuck._ "

"That's a 'no', then?"

Nami's hand is on your shoulder again, and not for your comfort. You wince at the grip and sweat a little at the calculated menace she exudes.

Her question is entirely, hazardously rhetorical.

"I, uh," you murmur nervously, halfway standing up so your height difference can alleviate a bit of the pressure she's applying. "Haven't found the right words?"

It's a very weak excuse, and she does not hesitate to call you out on it.

"You're the ship's chronicler," she says through her teeth, and her expression is appropriately thunderous when she shoves you toward the door. " _Figure it out._ "

You nod sharply and scamper past the threshold.

"Uh, where is he?" You ask meekly, peeking behind you. It's not often the cartographer's ire is directed your way, and there's a good reason for that (you're a smart one, that's why.)

Nami's expression softens and she looks up at the infirmary.

"Watching over Luffy."

With that, she yawns and saunters away. You blink, realizing that night has fallen and the deck is uncommonly quiet.

After relieving yourself (the 'no bathroom' part of your stint in your study took a toll), you hover outside the infirmary door. It's open a crack, a faint trail of smoke filtering through. You see Sanji posted in a chair on the side of the room opposite Luffy, though he's not looking at your captain. Chopper's nowhere to be seen, and you guess the cook carted a knocked out reindeer to bed.

Your hand's inches from the door, and in all likelihood Sanji can already sense your presence, but you still have no idea what to say.

It occurs to you, then, that the situation calls for more than words. That in mind, you bolt into the galley and flip on the light. With a grim kind of determination, you roll up your sleeves and march into the kitchen to unlock the refrigerator.

Three hours, one and a half botched attempts (it's complicated) later, and you've made a decent mess, but you've also baked a decent smelling coffee cake. One you hope will be enough to stave off death by way of steel-toed shoes for not cleaning up.

It's twilight outside, and a News Coo catches your eye on the way to the infirmary. On a whim, you flag down the bird and pay for the paper.

Hands full, you nudge the infirmary door open with your foot. Sanji perks. He only holds your gaze for a moment before turning away.

Your stomach clenches and twists in guilt.

"How's he doing?" You ask, saying the first thing that comes to mind.

He glances up, and it hurts that he looks surprised. He shrugs and gestures toward Luffy.

"He's eating just fine even though he's out," he says. "So I guess he's more or less all right. Chopper thinks he'll be up and running around sometime today."

"Oh, good. I've missed the noise around here."

You phrase it like exasperation, but it comes out as fondness. You sigh and resign yourself.

"I realized I hadn't eaten in a long time," you say, speaking quickly so he can't offer to make something. "So I went ahead and baked. Kinda nostalgic for me."

You place the cake on Chopper's desk near him, and he raises his curly brow, seeing it for the first time.

"You can kill me for using the kitchen _after_ you taste it." You say lightly, normalizing the scene all you can.

Sanji just turns back to stare at you.

"I didn't know you could bake."

You shift your shoulders in something between a shrug and a shudder, dreading what you have to say next.

"It's a recipe from my childhood. Used to have it for my birthday every year."

You bite your tongue until you see the exact moment he makes the connection- you keep talking to drown out his response.

"Apples, cinnamon, chocolate chips- I know sweets aren't always your favorite, but I figured maybe"

"It's good." He says around a forkful, cutting short your

' _maybe now that you're_ home _this can be a nostalgic treat for you, too.'_

"A tad dry, and a bit heavy with the cinnamon, but it's good." He says, his face finally a little more relaxed than it's been since you all returned to the Sunny.

"Well," you mutter, and then huff with a roll of your eyes that does nothing to downplay your relieved smile. "Everyone's a critic. I'll leave all that business in your capable hands from now on."

Idly, you pull the paper up from where you folded it under your arm. Several familiar sheets fall out from between the pages. One in particular flutters next to Sanji's seat.

The cook catches sight of the poster and frowns. You lean over, recognize it as his new bounty.

"Man, the nerve of those government bastards, huh?" You scoff, snatching up the bounty poster from the floor. "How stupid are they? First that 'Only Alive' crap, now this? I mean, who the hell's Vinsmoke?" You clap a hand over the chef's back.

"Everybody knows _our_ cook is _Black Leg_ Sanji."

Sanji blinks at you. The corner around his eye wrinkles, and he laughs.


	4. Chapter 4

07/30/18: Slight edit to the ending, but I think the effect is the same.

* * *

Zambai and the Franky Family might not have a lot of tact, being that they are, well, Franky's family (and damn _noisy_ ), but you will give credit where it's due- they _do_ give you and each of your nakama adequate opportunity to react to your bounties.

"Ah!" Nami cries, tears streaming down her horrified face. "Why did they put such a high price on my head?!"

You could say something about it- reassure her, perhaps, with the fact that almost everybody else on the crew has a significantly higher bounty, and at least her photo's flattering. The majority of them look scary, to be honest, Sanji's for a decidedly different reason, but still.

You're a bit preoccupied with the _large_ number attached to your face, though.

"Why am I worth more than the woman who can summon _thunderstorms_?!"

You yell, raking your hands back and forth in your hair, because prior to becoming a pirate you never even _heard_ of the amount 20 million.

"Does someone in the government have it out for me?!" You demand, a bit hysterically, slapping the wanted poster to emphasize the insanity that you're worth _seven East Blue bounties_!

"Well," Robin says, calmly, and she's amused by this, isn't she? "You _did_ attack Spandam with much prejudice, as I recall."

You pause in the middle of your frenzy. What feels like a dopey grin (given the way Zambai edges away from you, it leans more toward sadistic) slowly grows on your face. You remember the high, dog-whistle-pitch wail that came out of Spandam's hilarious screaming mouth when you, ah, gave his descendants a harsh thwack. With your foot.

"Yeah," you say airily, the memory a rather pleasant one you'll relish for years. "Yeah, I did." You chuckle and thumb your nose, panic replaced by a sort of pride. "Well, if the price for doing that is 20 million, I say that's a sweet deal."

Robin laughs a little.

Chopper, by contrast, takes more issue with your bounty than you initially did.

"Why is _his_ bounty four hundred thousand times mine?! I fought as hard I could!" Chopper complains, protests admittedly valid given that you didn't fight a single one of the CP9 assassins.

"Just try harder next time!" Luffy says with his easy grin.

His encouragement falls flat, and Chopper decides to vent his frustration by latching onto your skull. With his teeth.

"AAH!" You shout, running around and whipping your head back and forth, trying to pry him off.

"Please, Straw hat," Zambai says, slapping his hand on the eighth poster he brought. "It won't be safe here for Aniki with a price on his head! Take him with you!"

Following perhaps the most convoluted chase scene and the most painful means of coercion in history, Franky's one of your nakama, Usopp's back on board, and you are all away from Water 7 and Luffy's demon grandfather.

Franky stands at the stern after Sunny lands back in the ocean, staring back where his home has long since vanished from view.

"How's it feel to be a wanted man?" You ask, because Franky's an emotional goofball, and thus distraction feels like the best way to go.

"Ha!" He laughs, posing with his hips cocked and chest puffed. "I have years of experience as an underworld boss! Being on the sea is the only difference! Matter of fact, those bastards sold me short at 44 million!"

You glance over your shoulder at a door slamming shut- the new ship's infirmary, if you remember right.

It's near dinner time that you decide Usopp and Luffy's offers to play have been turned down once too many. You don't bother knocking, Chopper startles easily, but only when he concentrates on medicine, otherwise his animal senses are pretty top notch.

"Okay, what's up with you?" You ask, foregoing any small talk. "There's an entire week's worth of brand new ship to play with, complete with a lawn, and you're holed up in here?"

"This _is_ the infirmary." Chopper counters, albeit with a monotone. You heave a put-upon sigh, and prop yourself in the door frame.

"You're not giving me a lot of options, here," you say, exaggerating your exasperation so he knows you're teasing him. "Either tell me what's bugging you, or I come back with Robin." You leer at him with a grin. "And she'll _tickle_ you into talking!"

A giggle tugs the corners of his mouth up, but it's short lived. He turns around to look at you and then stares at the floor. He mumbles, so quiet you have to ask him to speak up.

"I said I'm not a pet."

You frown and kick the door shut, crouching in front of his chair.

"I know that, dummy," you chide him, poking his forehead, pushing a bit to get him to look you in the eye. "Everybody knows that. Pets can't be doctors."

"Then how come," he says, pauses with a strain in his voice like he's really sad. "How come my best wasn't good enough?"

Your brow pulls together.

"Is this about your bounty?"

He nods, and you almost (just barely catch yourself) roll your eyes.

"Why is it such a big deal to you, anyway?" You ask, hopping back onto the bed. "Hey, this is comfy."

"I don't want a really outrageous bounty like Luffy or Zoro's," Chopper explains. "They're the strongest, so they get the biggest bounties- but... but I'm only worth 50? Am I bad at being a pirate? Am I that weak?"

"No," you answer immediately. "You're just exponentially better at being a doctor than a fighter. Besides," you wave a hand. "Having a high bounty doesn't necessarily mean you're stronger than someone with a lower bounty. Remember Crocodile? His was almost three times Luffy's before Alabasta, and he won."

"Yeah, but," Chopper says, in a tone that clearly says 'unmoved'. "That's Luffy."

Which, okay, yeah, your captain probably isn't the best example to use as a standard for any sort of argument, giving his propensity for _breaking_ rules. And doing _unspeakable things_ to logic.

You huff out your nose, determined to cure, or at least alleviate, the uncertainty from the young physician.

"Look," you say after a minute of thinking. "The government only thinks you're a pet because no one saw you fight. That hair guy you pummeled was the only one who could've served as a witness to your strength, and unconscious people don't give reports, and _fired_ unconscious people do even less."

When Chopper still doesn't look any happier, you press on.

"If our roles had been reversed, and you were the one who kicked Spandam in the balls"

"I don't know if I would have" he interrupts.

"He hit Robin." You say flatly, lack of remorse abundantly clear. "Repeatedly. After she'd been traumatized by dredging up her horrific past and while she was handcuffed with _seastone_."

"I would have absolutely kicked him in the testicles." Chopper amends without a moment's hesitation. His current blues are momentarily forgotten, replaced with a loathing for the former CP9 head. "He doesn't deserve to breed."

…

RIGHT. Banishing _that_ disturbing thought to the deepest recesses of your brain. And using bleach later.

"Anyway," you digress back to your pseudo-pep talk. "If you had done _that_ , you'd have my bounty and I'd be worth 50 to the government. Trust me, the amount of money someone will pay for your head does not indicate how strong or dangerous you are." You point at him. "You're the doctor, not a frontline fighter. You're strongest behind the scenes, and your battleground," you tap the infirmary wall. "Is in here."

It's not a cure-all, but it tides over his insecurity enough that he jumps up and bolts for the kitchen at Sanji's call for dinner.

Days later, the crew up one nakama and waiting on Zoro to pull his infuriating act of shrugging off all the shit that tried to kill him _this time_ , you're sitting up on the Sunny's railing, taking a long swig off a flask of whiskey you found in the castle's kitchen.

A herculean yawn draws your eye down to Chopper, his jaw doing it's level best to dislocate itself from his head. Small wonder the little guy's wiped out, he's worked nonstop on keeping Zoro stable and tending to the litany of injuries incurred by your nakama and Lola's crew.

Chopper pulls himself up next to you, staring at the ruins of Moria's twisted madhouse. Zoro must be conscious, at least, since Chopper's not let the swordsman out of his sight since Sanji found him, only tending to the other wounded where he could rest.

The not-quite silence (you can hear Franky at work in Sunny's innards, Luffy and Usopp running around up to who-knows-what, and the occasional emotional outburst from one of Lola's crew, realizing anew that they are free) stretches, curling around the ship almost comfortably. Chopper whispers, and you barely catch it with the breeze rolling past.

"You were right."

You pause, the flask hovering halfway to your lips. You bump his knee with yours, tell him you're listening.

"My battleground isn't out there with them," he says, voice tight and strained with sadness and a valiant attempt at hardness. "Not when the really dangerous guys don't even get bounties."

You want to be glad he understands. You picture this moment, with congratulations for growing up a little bit more, and encouragement toward becoming a better pirate.

And you are proud of him, but you wish he didn't have to figure things out this way.

Dr. Hogback has joined the ranks of 'irredeemable sacks of shit' in your mind. Chopper's naiveté has always been a refreshing foil to Robin's morbid sense of humor, and discovering the depravity of a man he once idolized forcefully ripped chunks of his innocence out of him.

Before, you're positive his mood would lift with something simple like sweets and ice cream, or pestering Franky into showing off a new invention.

You want to tell him that a little time will make it all better,

 _'A couple days out from here, this whole experience will feel like a lingering nightmare.'_

But you can't. He needs to be stronger than that- all of you do.

You settle for tugging down the brim of his hat and pulling him onto your lap, encouraging him silently to take a nap.

"We are the Straw Hat pirates." You whisper.

 _'And we will_ be _stronger than that.'_


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm sorry."

You chomp on the inside of your cheek. She's going up in flames, snow's falling gently down from the heavens in a whispering, weeping eulogy and _she's_ apologizing to _you_.

 _'Stop.'_

Luffy, who can barely stand on his own in that little canoe, goes still. You can't look at him, can't look at any of your nakama, or you'll break down.

"I wanted to carry everyone a little further."

Your chest heaves with a stifled gasp.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to keep going on adventures with everyone."

 _'Stop.'_

Snowflakes melt and trickle down your neck and hands.

"MERRY!"

Chopper cries out and the boat rocks, Nami sinking to her knees.

 _'Please. Stop.'_

"But I-"

Luffy cuts in, as broken as the rest of you, and the world shrinks down to your dying home and the others you shared it with.

"IF ANYONE NEEDS TO APOLOGIZE, IT'S US, MERRY!"

You clench your jaw as hard as you can, blink rapidly to repress the burning sting behind your eyes. Nothing stops the overflowing tears streaking down, veiling everything in a coat of shivering frustration and sorrow.

"I-I'm bad at steering," Luffy says, choking on sobs _heavy_ , enough to make even his knees tremble. "I kept running you into icebergs and rocks! I tore up your sail too."

You can't _not_ break now, not with your captain talking like that, because this is what _Goodbye_ is- an earnest, harried, _desperate_ bid at closure.

"Zoro and Sanji are morons, and they kept breaking things all the time when they fought! And Us-Usopp tried to fix you, but he wasn't any good at it!"

How many spilled oil lamps prompted a mad, stomping dance in the galley and Nami's study? How many cracks and splinters from the simple act of Luffy standing his ground against cannon fire?

How many times did she _save_ all of you?

You can't quantify anything, because it is _impossible_ , and here she burns, _apologizing_ to _you_ for nothing going _farther_.

"If anyone's gotta apologize-!"

Luffy chokes on a throaty, whimpering sob, and his face is ugly with snot and tears. You're not doing any better.

"But..."

You blink faster to clear your eyes, stubborn to see her funeral through, because this is the _bare minimum_ she deserves.

"I was always so happy."

Your captain finds the strength to look at her from under his hat then, sucking in a damp breath.

"You all made me so happy traveling with you."

You know you aren't imagining the tears running down Merry's figurehead.

"Thank you."

Her soft, genuine sincerity cuts deeper than any wound you've ever endured and truly _fucks you up_.

Another second, and only her silhouette remains in the fire, obscuring her colors from you for the last time.

Luffy shudders, eyes squeezed shut and he wails into the descending snow.

" _MERRY!_ "

* * *

You shiver, slipping off the swing on deck and tumbling onto the lawn.

"Ow."

You groan and rub your scalp, slowly sitting up in the grass, blinking at the quiet ambience of the waves and the night sky.

"Oh yeah. Watch duty." You mumble, the fugue of sleep dispersing. Your first shift on the new ship, which brings Merry back to mind all over.

With an extensive sigh, you push up onto your feet, dusting off your pant legs and casting an appraising look around the Thousand Sunny. Even if he's just joined and hasn't had much chance to show off, you can tell Franky outdid himself.

 _"The spirit of your Merry lives on in Sunny-bro!"_

You huff, bemused by the memory. You know Franky meant well, and maybe Sunny did inherit something from his predecessor, but you don't replace nakama.

You can't.

You wander up toward the bow, tracing a hand on the rail until you're just behind Luffy's new 'Captain's Seat'. You don't sit there, but you sidle up on the railing nearest the figurehead you can and watch the ocean break against Sunny's hull.

"Hey Sunny," you say, too tired and Merry's memory too recent to feel any embarrassment for speaking to a ship. "It's been a few days, and I don't think any of us introduced ourselves, huh? That's a pirate's life for you, I guess, let alone out here on the Grand Line. Chaos at every turn."

He doesn't reply, the lion that succeeded the lamb, but you're more than happy with a listener right now.

"You probably hear more or less everything anyway, so you know that I'm the chronicler." You scratch your nose and chuckle. "I'm not a seasoned pirate by any means, and I don't add much to a fight, but our crew's a bit unusual- everyone has more or less one thing the rest of us rely on them for. Usopp snipes, Zoro cuts, Chopper mends, Sanji cooks and I..."

You trail off for a minute, clenching your hand at your side.

"I make a record. I make sure people don't forget, and that they _know_ who we are."

You smirk wryly.

"Fancy way to tell you I practice calligraphy, isn't it?"

Sunny remains silent.

You wait a minute, and when you speak again, it's quieter.

"We're pretty loud and definitely destructive, we fight a lot, with each other and the marines, more than half of us are prone to making stupid decisions, the rest of us are dumb enough to follow, and all of us are, at _best_ , only tangentially sane."

You rest a hand on Sunny's mane.

"But we take care of our own. And you're _ours_ now, Sunny. Same as we're yours."

You don't track how long you sit there, something slowly bleeding out of you and leaving you feeling just a bit lighter.

"There are others too," you say, slipping back into fond memories without the thick mire of grief tinting your recollections. "We have a lamb, a duck and a princess among our nakama. You'll probably meet some of them someday. Between you and me, I think chances are good that the princess defects to our crew next time we see her. I can only imagine how bored she is right now after spending a few weeks with us."

You stay there, even after Robin steps out from the library to relieve you of watch. You stay with Sunny, your youngest nakama. You make sure he knows that nakama can't be revoked or changed out, not for distance, convenience or death.

You tell him about those who came before.


	6. Chapter 6

"But Robin," Chopper sniffles, still teary-eyed. "What if Sanji doesn't come back?"

"Then there's nothing to worry about!" Zoro says immediately, dismissive of the somber atmosphere and of Chopper's guilt.

The doctor snaps at the prone swordsman for being callous. Sitting between Brook and Zoro, you eye the santoryuu practitioner while you nurse a bottle of bourbon.

Zoro ignores Chopper's outburst, unflappable and unmoved.

"If that moron was actually leaving for good, he should've said 'Thanks for everything.' Or better yet, 'Sorry for being such a pain in the ass.' Ideally both." Zoro huffs. "Instead he goes and gets involved with another Yonko over some small potatoes shit."

Nami shoves Brook aside, shouting at Zoro for being insensitive and boorish, but you've essentially tuned things out. You let the bourbon slide down your throat, focused on the pleasant burning sensation while your mind calls back to days long past.

* * *

"Go back to bed, bastard," Zoro grunts in the not-quite poisonous tone he uses with Sanji. "I've got half a dozen sets left anyway. I'll just take the last shift."

You're not surprised by his veiled hostility- you passed Sanji on your way from your study up to the crow's nest, told him you'd go in his stead. The cook's on the schedule for watch tonight, you aren't. Zoro keeps track, almost as well as Nami.

You let the trapdoor fall shut behind you.

"I don't need any company," Zoro growls. "And I just said I'd"

"Yeah, yeah," you say. "Not everything's about you, you know."

Whether he's surprised to hear your voice instead of Sanji's, you can't say, since he doesn't respond and continues working with his _irresponsibly_ heavy weights.

"I woke up cold and couldn't go back to sleep," you say, providing an explanation he doesn't ask for. The bottle of sake in your hand sways and the liquid sloshes. "Decided I'd get a nightcap to warm me up."

"I don't drink when I'm training." Zoro says without prompt. You don't miss the glance that's a halfway glare he sends in your direction before reverting his attention to his lifting.

"That's too bad," you say with a shrug, posting on the bench around the circular interior of the crow's nest. "Might loosen that stick in your ass."

He snorts. Or scoffs, you can't tell between his labored breathing. Regardless, he doesn't dismiss you, though he doesn't react to the good-natured barb either.

Whatever. If this sort of quasi-silence is his comfort zone right now, you can give him that- you're technically intruding, and you aren't being fully forthcoming with him. Your reasons are several, all connecting back to why Sanji agreed to let _you_ take his shift at all.

Because, like the chef, you know about the deal Zoro made with Kuma.

You didn't witness it yourself. You, like your nakama, were several leagues beyond half-dead by then, but you listened to Lola's crew mates regale Sanji about how things went down.

 _("You heard all that, didn't you?" Sanji asks flatly, not accusatory but laden with meaning that you already understand._

 _"Heard all what?" You ask back, meeting his gaze evenly. "I just came out to get you so we can start lunch.")_

Even thinking about the secondhand account gives you goosebumps now.

You shake your head, make good on the nightcap. You could say you're here to check up on Zoro, which doesn't quite ring true either.

Because he's, well, _Zoro_.

As a wordsmith, you've assigned all kinds of adjectives to the swordsman before- unyielding, bullheaded, ferocious, obsessed, asocial and certainly stupid a few times, but never _vulnerable_. Not like you, or Usopp or the rest of your nakama who have to deal with trivial details like _mortality_. Watching him train, his form trembling with every heave, that descriptor pops into your traitorous head.

Nonetheless, he keeps going. Unyielding wins out.

You prop an elbow on your knee and rest your chin in your hand. You wonder, once again,

 _'How did a man so immensely, silently prideful come to call someone Captain?'_

When you first signed on as a Straw Hat, you were Luffy's fourth bunkmate on Merry, and you knew your crew mates pretty well inside of a week. Usopp, Nami and Sanji- for them, Luffy was their dark horse, and one they deemed worth staking their own dreams on.

You understood that. You felt similarly at the time.

And while those ambitions have been subtly shifting as the voyage takes you deeper into a world that only seems to grow _bigger_ the more of it you see, Zoro was different from the day you met him. Some core aspect of his character made him distinct from the rest of you, though none of you are any less independent by nature than he.

Something about his motivation for following your captain has defied capture within the written word, outside the scope of your ability.

You consider that a challenge.

"Shut UP, will you?" Zoro snaps, whipping his head around to glare at you. "The whole ship can hear you thinking!"

You flinch at the outburst, not because Zoro could break your neck like wet cardboard with an errant backhand (though that is a _legitimate_ fear for most people), but because he's acknowledging your presence fully, and you're unprepared.

You recognize his gaze for what it is- a prompt, an insistence that you either keep quiet or spit out whatever you came up here for.

You heave out a sigh.

"Why do you follow Luffy?"

You speak as plainly as you can, and still you're frustrated that it's fucking _inadequate_. Zoro arches one eyebrow at you, otherwise unresponsive. He's an honest, straightforward type, so you take a healthy swig of sake, try to rephrase the question and eliminate all the ambiguity you can, and dive in again.

" _Why_ do you follow Luffy?"

You almost groan, because emphasizing 'why' over 'follow' is the best you can come up with, and as a writer, there's little you hate more than filling a space with uncertainty where you don't intend for it.

Zoro's brow evens out into a neutral scowl, and he huffs out a harsh, ragged breath.

"Oi," he grunts, turning away with one hand raised. "Throw me a towel."

You clench your teeth and root around the hamper, tossing a dry one with an aggravated, jerky motion. He wipes down his face and runs it over his hair, dropping the insane weights carefully. He plods to his katana, and you glower at the floor. You figure he's dismissing the subject, leaving you to stew. Instead, he picks up his white scabbard and pads back over to your spot against the wall.

He sits down all-at-once beside you, back arched forward with all the exhaustion he's obviously fighting. He holds his weapon with both hands, almost cradling it.

Wado, you remember.

'Surprised' doesn't even _begin_ to describe your reaction to the moment he turns his head and holds the katana out to you. The last time you had any kind of blade more dangerous than a kitchen knife, you'd 'borrowed' it from a marine soldier. Your form, stance and grip had so offended the crew's resident sword otaku that Zoro smacked the blade out of your hand (this was _in the middle of a pitched battle_ ) and forbade you from ever wielding anything sharper than a stick of bamboo under threat of death.

(Luffy found that particular gem of a moment _hilarious_.)

And here, now, Zoro's handing Wado, which is to Zoro as the straw hat is to Luffy, to _you_.

You set aside the alcohol, taking the scabbard firmly with both hands. You don't dare drop it. Zoro takes the sake from the bench, watching you stare at Wado.

"I made a promise on that katana," he says after a full minute of silence. "That I would become the world's greatest swordsman."

He knocks back the bottle of sake after that and doesn't speak again, as though he's amply answered all your questions.

In a sense, he has.

To say Luffy defines Zoro would be a gross disservice to the swordsman's character. However, ambition doesn't do him justice either.

Rather, Zoro's _word_ defines his actions, his promise the foundation for his ambition. And, to him, he made a promise to see Luffy crowned when he agreed to call him Captain. At some point, his initial promise, that ambition, became a _necessity_ for the Pirate King.

And, like the former dark horse reasoning, you understand that.

* * *

"Yosh! We don't know what's going on in Sanji's mind, so let's just go ask him!"

You polish off the bourbon, smirking when Zoro yells at Luffy for announcing his intention to chase Sanji down. True to form, the swordsman only makes a show of irritation, and doesn't actually dissent your captain's decision.

They're a package deal, these two, Zoro the immovable object to Luffy's unstoppable force. At once the voice of reason to Luffy's Id, and the foremost supporter of all his reckless plans.

"You're an asshole." You deadpan, lobbing the empty bottle at Zoro's head.

He glares, snatching the glass out of the air and discarding it once he confirms it's empty.

 _'You're also a massive softie.'_ You think with a laugh, dismissing his snarl that lacks any sort of bite, especially when you remember how many times Luffy and Chopper have curled up on his chest without one word of complaint from him.

You recline on the mount again, tuning out everyone else's concerns about Big Mom, Kaido and Sanji, borrowing a little of Zoro's attitude. Luffy's made his choice, the other details don't matter right now.

There's no guarantee, now that you finally understand Zoro's character, that others will appreciate him through something like the written word, even with all your skill and faith in the medium's power. Only time will tell, probably more than you've got left in your life.

You know now, regardless, how you'll introduce him in your narrative.

 _Roronoa Zoro- De Facto First Mate in all but title._

You don't need to add 'Greatest Swordsman'.

The world will come to know him for that anyway. Those that call Zoro nakama know that there's no difference between his future mantle and Luffy's right hand.

They are one and the same.


	7. Chapter 7

"We're in the clear!"

Nami's announcement that the blow has passed breaks through the ringing in your ears.

You blow out a long, ragged exhale and collapse where you stand. Flopping as bonelessly as you can, you lay spread eagle on the deck, tugging at the rope that's been digging into your sternum and rubbing a burn into your shoulders for the past hour.

There's a pull from the other end of the rope and you're dragged over the damp grass for a full ten seconds before you manage to speak.

"Luffy, wait. Just gimme a second."

Your captain's smile is apologetic, like he forgot you two were attached (not _forgot_ , really, only lost track of in the chaos), yet there's more tension in it than his rubber features typically allow. You make quick work of getting yourself free so he can confirm everyone's well being without you being dragged around and turning into collateral damage.

With a thump, you lay back down, too soaked by the rain and the waves that made the ship list to care that all your clothes are frigid and your skin has goose bumps where it meets the grass. You can hear your nakama collecting themselves, Luffy's sandals clapping over the floorboards and slapping across the lawn. The length of rope trails behind him, occasionally whipping upwards and smacking into things.

"That," you breath out each word, referring to the clamp around Luffy's waist. "Was. The. _Worst._ Idea."

"It worked, didn't it?" Usopp retorts, albeit with his teeth still chattering from nerves.

Why in the sweet name of _fuck_ the crew drew straws to determine who spent the storm strung to Luffy instead of, oh, maybe assigning one of the damn _monsters_ to do it, you cannot fathom. The sniper's latest invention to ensure he who is most prone to falling into the ocean doesn't go overboard _technically_ served its purpose, but given how much treatment you expect from Chopper, ( _everything_ , save your earlobes, _hurts)_ you're going to abstain from any future trials with the thing.

You are also going to murder Usopp. _After_ you've confirmed all your limbs are attached and nothing important got fried off when Luffy turned himself into a lightning rod by hoisting one of Zoro's weights over the Sunny. _With you still tied to him._

Thank God your exoskeleton's under repair. And that you were only bound to Luffy with _rope_ , not a more conductive cable.

You roll your neck from side to side and crane it up to look around.

Nami's already made a sweep of her mikan grove, one elbow cradled from when the ship bucked in the water and she lost her balance. She would have dealt with the lightning rain herself, but she'd been occupied redirecting the wind at the time, and Luffy wasn't about to let Franky, the most metallic person or thing on board, take a hit. Thousand Sunny Franky can and will repair- but no one else would know what to do if something managed to short-circuit some critical component of his body.

Speaking of the shipwright, he's already muttering to himself about all the damage Sunny's been dealt. Even he's got a cap to his stamina, however, and he disappears below deck to his workshop for a rejuvenating Cola before setting to work.

Something delightful tickles your nose amid the smell of seawater permeating over everything, and you note that Sanji's already retreated into the galley, no doubt fixing up a hot and filling broth to tide everyone over until he can start dinner. You shoot Nami a look and indicate the kitchen. She immediately catches your meaning and follows after the cook.

A spontaneous flash-glacier (you don't know how else to describe it) appeared about halfway through the ordeal that tested even Sanji's heated kicks, and the chef's got a bad habit of neglecting to eat after everyone's pushed themselves. Of course, he can't say no to the cartographer.

"How you holding up, Brook?" You call to the skeleton musician by the mast.

"Yohohoho..." his answering laugh is weaker than usual, and you realize he's using the mast as a support while he dumps water out of his boots. "I am soaked to the bone. Though, I am _only_ bones!" He chuckles, and you're too tired to groan. The storm may be behind you, but it's not exactly sunny- he'll be a bit wobbly on his feet until he's dry. His thick afro won't help make that process any quicker.

You roll onto your protesting knees. Gravity is making a _particularly_ persuasive argument right now, but there are other hammers on board who need attention more than Brook or Luffy.

"My blow dryer should still be in the bathroom, Brook." Robin offers kindly. Her gait might be a bit stilted, but otherwise she looks no worse for wear on the surface apart from the obvious fatigue. Unflappable as ever. Figures she's still dry. Make that _one_ hammer who needs attention.

"Sorry everyone," Chopper's apology comes out as a pathetic moan from his stomach-down position, fur dripping and matted. "I think I need a minute before I can patch you up."

Considering the doctor directly absorbed a tsunami-scale wave with guard point, no one faults him. You pick him up off the grass and move toward the bow where there's still some wind rolling in.

A monstrous, if sluggish, gnashing of huge teeth has you taking quick, stuttering steps back down the stairs.

"Zoro," you snap. "Why the _shit_ is this guy still here?" Your stomach rumbles, and Chopper's makes a similar sound. "Scratch that," you say with a different edge in your voice. "Why is our _dinner_ still alive and trying to eat us?"

"Huh," Zoro says, his sharp green eye giving the sea king that attacked the ship an appraising look. The beast's forehead has a gnarly stab wound pouring blood into its eyes, yet it still manages a fierce growl. "Tenacious bastard, aren't you?"

"Whoo! Sea king meat!" Luffy cheers from Zoro's side, having finished his rounds.

"Oi," Sanji yells from the kitchen. "Shitty rubber! Don't you dare take a bite out of that thing till I've cooked it!"

"Wasn't gonna!" Luffy answers petulantly, even as he reluctantly steps back from the creature's hide.

Not in the mood to watch Zoro butcher the poor, defenseless apex predator, you carry a still sopping Chopper to the stern, hunger and cold slowly overcoming your own fatigue and breeding irritation.

Chopper suddenly jabbing your ribs doesn't help.

"Ow." You half-grunt, half-growl.

"Preliminary checks," Chopper mutters without any latent remorse. "You tend to break most easily."

You clench your teeth. You're about to demonstrate that you're still very much capable of _shaking_ the seawater out of his fur, but a gravelly voice interrupts.

"Hold still." Jinbe says.

It's all the warning you get before his stiff palm drives for your face. Your ass clenches and you squeeze your eyes shut, too occupied with the imminent pain to wonder what you did to deserve the hit.

Nothing comes though, and you blink cautiously only to realize the reindeer in your arms feels a fair bit lighter.

"Wow!" Chopper exclaims, jumping out of your arms. He whips his head back and forth to remove a few lingering droplets of moisture and beams. "Thanks, Jinbe! I didn't know you could do that!"

Jinbe chuckles a bit and smiles.

Chopper dashes off for his bag.

"That's a hell of a useful thing." You murmur, plopping onto your butt and tilting your head against the railing.

Jinbe hums. A cursory glance at the former Shichibukai reveals nothing significant in the way of injury. The thought runs through your mind that none in the world are as fit to be helmsman.

Who could possibly better steer a ship through the seas than a fishman who can literally wrestle waves into submission?

He actually did a fair bit of that today.

Sanji makes his way around with a piping broth, taking only an extra minute for a smoke and a passing swoon at Robin's feet before he gets into an argument with Zoro over where to start cutting into the now-dead sea king. Luffy, predictably, laughs at the familiar sight and throws in his sentiment that it doesn't matter which part they cook now, since he can eat all of it. Chopper's making a valiant, if futile, attempt to get Luffy to hold still so he can listen to his heartbeat (something about shock from the lightning strike is all you can understand among the medical vernacular.)

Robin's sprouted upwards of thirty extra hands to assist Franky in repairing one of the dents in the hull where icebergs struck, simultaneously in discussion with Nami regarding how long the weather will remain relatively hazard-free.

Usopp's halfway up the mast, stitching up a tear in the sails while also regaling Brook with an account of how he dove underwater in the middle of an even worse storm to subdue an army of sharks. _With one arm_. The skeleton, afro somehow bigger than usual (he must have used the blow dryer) listens indulgently, chuckling and gasping at all the appropriate moments as he tunes his guitar.

"This is," Jinbe says in that measured, thoughtful way he has. "Different from what I have known."

You're a bit surprised he's initiating a conversation that isn't about the crew's next destination or the work that needs to be done. Jinbe isn't cagey by any means, and he's got a far more personable face than Zoro, but he's not what you would describe as social.

You smirk, the broth spreading warmth from your belly to your toes.

"You get used to it." You say, meaning something else entirely. Jinbe's your newest nakama, and there are a ton of little things you could tell him. A million inconsequential, minute details rife with deeper meaning.

The way Sanji threatens Usopp with mushrooms for his dinner after the cook catches him aiding Luffy in a pantry raid. How Usopp retaliates ( _every time_ ) with the _threat_ of cockroaches in his bed, though only once a certain marimo is out of earshot. The offending vegetable never touches the entree of the meal, and Sanji pretends not to notice the marksman pawning it off onto someone else's plate. There's never been anything remotely crawly found in the men's quarters, either.

How Zoro never naps below deck or in the crow's nest unless he's on watch duty. The sudden absence of his baritone snores whenever Nami or Robin take the stairs, only to resume once they've ascended to the library or their quarters.

Chopper's fur standing on end- a brief, though undeniably chilling split second- whenever Robin walks by a bookstore. The gentle squeeze she gives his hoof and the seamless turn she makes toward the first candy shop she sees.

The unspoken, never-discussed-yet-unanimous agreement immediately after Thriller Bark that the crew had _always_ assigned a pair to watch duty on foggy nights. Brook never asks about it again, but he does adopt a 'habit' of playing a tune for Nami's mikan grove ( _they enjoy rhythm and melody as all things do, yohohoho!_ ) the morning after.

The somehow subtle and simultaneously pointed _look_ Robin and Zoro exchange, eye contact passing over everyone's heads when you're all in a tavern together. A critical communication none of the others notice (you do. It's your job to notice.) The assured smile Robin answers your raised, questioning eyebrow with. Zoro's grunt

"Bathroom."

in response to Sanji's passing barb that the marimo better not get lost. The fact that, in those moments, he never does and reclaims his seat beside Luffy within minutes.

The notably overturned furniture and spilled beer around a _fucking quickly_ vacated table in the tavern's darkest corner, once filled with men who leered at your nakama on arrival.

Luffy, blinking and bewildered by how soon after asking a meat sandwich appears in his hands. No, actually, that's not it, because he's often filched sandwiches off of platters the cook prepared for the ladies. The way Sanji acquiesces to Luffy's demand without protest or so much as a _"Leave it to me, Captain."_ Sanji's startled, almost defensive reaction to Luffy's uncharacteristic, _calculating_ gaze fixed on him for several seconds, seconds the captain spends _not eating_ the sandwich. The little huff the rubber man gives, looking at his food with a slight pout and a deceptive, petulant whine,

"Hey, Sanji, I'm not _that_ hungry."

Luffy, nonchalantly ripping the sandwich in half and all but forcing it on the chef, darting out before Sanji can shut his sputtering, gaping mouth to form words. The heavy, exasperated sigh laden with aching fondness that follows.

"I wish that shitty rubber would quit waffling between perceptive and idiotic."

Luffy's whoop at the veritable feast Sanji prepares the next time Sunny docks, and the cook's offhand comment that he somehow _overstocked_ the pantry, so they can afford to be indulgent.

Brook, laughing at the dinner table for no apparent reason after the mayhem of mealtime dies down. His explanation that he still finds himself spontaneously tickled, surrounded by the music of nakama, relishing the melody of so much life. Franky's grin faltering for a second when the musician goes around the table, describing the sound unique to each of you. Massive metallic shoulders hunching, a motion like a twitch, when Brook pauses, eyes on the cyborg.

"Franky-san's resounding heart beats like a drum, with a Don!"

Franky, mouth frozen, hanging barely open, while Usopp nods with an affirming sound and Zoro scoffs as if to say _'What else would it be?'_ His insistence, when Luffy questions it with a carefree laugh, that he's most definitely _not_ crying.

The promises each of them carry, that which spurs them beyond all the chaos and cruelty and atrocious corruption in the world they encounter, what makes them pursue their dreams.

A tattoo of the sun, impartial and bright for all species.

A tone dial tucked safely away beneath an afro.

A ship destined to sail a thousand seas.

A scholar's brilliant mind.

A metal brace around a broken antler.

A pair of hands that will never shed blood.

A sheep's spirit with immense heart and courage.

A mikan grove and a pinwheel.

A white sheathed straight blade.

A red banded straw hat.

You smile at Nami storming up to where Zoro and Sanji are still fighting, shouting that they can't keep all of the meat, so just cut it up already.

"I certainly hope not." Jinbe remarks, and you can tell he's sincere, and that makes you happy because he understands what you mean.

These are you nakama, people you live for, and you've come to depend on their doing the same for you. Some might say it's unhealthy, co-dependent, but those people can stick their ass in magma for all you care.

You've found and fallen into a comfortable, anchoring rhythm, but you _never_ take them for granted.

You all made that mistake once before, two years past. Assumed you would keep winning.

You smile up at Jinbe. He's new, and your duty is in the details, to note them down and tell the crew's story. The things you could tell him are enough to fill several novels. Details with significance even you can't put into words, for one reason or another, but that resonates in your bones, and will resonate in his just the same.

In the moment, though, there's only one that matters.

"Thank you."

Jinbe looks down, mouth pulled down just slightly in question. You turn to look at Luffy, your captain who had no one when he needed you all most.

"For being there."


End file.
